A Snapshot of Modern Life
by Jem Kallop
Summary: A look at a day between Marik and Bakura. Modern citronshipping, short oneshot, from a prompt on tumblr


**For nika345, from a prompt I put up on tumblr ^^ it's still active if anyone else has requests – my URL is thiefshippingjem. This is citronshipping (modern) and it's quite fluffy, and short. Hope you enjoy! – Jem**

 **Prompts (I used both xD):**

 **16) "I did a pregnancy test."**

 **17) "I didn't know you could sing."**

Bakura stamped around the apartment with a heavy scowl settled over his features.

It had been hours since Marik left to go and visit Odion, or help Ishizu at the museum, or whatever stupid job had taken him away from the needy thief this time, and Bakura was feeling distinctly neglected. What was the point of coming back to life if he was just going to get stuck on his own? He had had enough of loneliness in his old life, in the desert, living the rangy life of a tombrobber. The Thief King, they had called him. Bakura allowed himself a small, arrogant grin at that thought.

Of course, Marik had freaked out completely when Bakura first showed up at his doorstep. At first, he hadn't recognised him – Bakura had been gifted his original body, resplendent in red with skin darker than Marik's and grey-white hair – but once he had come to terms with it, he had thrown himself at Bakura and refused to ever let go. It didn't take long for Bakura to move himself in, and even less time for him to abandon the spare room and simply share a bed with Marik.

Ishizu and Odion were not yet aware of his return. Bakura had threatened to storm straight up to their door and announce himself as the Thief King, just to watch their horrified gasps, but Marik had forbidden that with a certain gleam in his eye that Bakura knew he couldn't successfully fight. So, he was stuck in the flat whenever Marik went to visit them, pacing the walls with nothing to do.

The modern world still mostly eluded Bakura. His time as a spirit in Ryou's body was hazy to him at best, and even had it not been, Bakura had never really bothered to learn the frills of modern life. He had preferred to let Ryou handle all the boring stuff, and only took control when it was necessary for his plans.

Plans that were ultimately doomed to fail.

Bakura growled under his breath. He got to his feet and stamped into the kitchen, thinking to make some tea to calm himself – a love for the hot drink was a habit of Ryou's that he had adopted for himself. Ryou didn't know he was back, either. Bakura, twisted as he was, _did_ feel a small modicum of guilt for the way he had treated his former host. He didn't want to give Ryou a heart attack on top of everything else.

Marik disagreed with him.

"Ryou would probably be pleased, you know," he had informed Bakura once, one evening near the beginning of their relationship.

Bakura grunted. "I doubt it."

"Honestly." There was a sly grin in Marik's tone. "Ryou and I got quite close when you were gone. He missed you almost as much as I did."

"Ah, so you _did_ miss me?"

"Shut up, thief."

Bakura had refused, continuing to poke fun until Marik leaned over and kissed him rather firmly. That effectively shut him up.

Bakura sipped at his tea, losing himself in pleasant memories of Marik by his side, holding him, reminding him why it was so good to be alive again. Marik was the only good thing about this modern world. Bakura missed the dark silence of the desert night, the bright stars that speckled the sky, not covered by the ridiculous glowing lights of the cities of this world.

Not to say the modern world didn't hold its own beauties – Marik had taken him to many places that Bakura loved. A café where you could get hot _and_ cold water on demand! Entire buildings dedicated to the playing of games, or the entertainment of children. Bakura would spend hours on all the different consoles, until the place was closing and Marik had to drag him away lest they got locked in all night.

Bakura felt his lips twitch at the memory.

He sighed lowly, moving through into the sitting room and collapsing on their tiny, ratty sofa. He had wanted to steal them a much better place than this – some of his skills had remained, after all, and threatening landlords for Ryou had always been a speciality of his – but Marik forbade him. This apartment was conveniently close to Odion, he argued, and Ishizu was nearby with her husband, too. Bakura had relented, albeit begrudgingly. He would not take Marik away from his family. Bakura would give anything to have a living family, as they were, and he would not be responsible for taking Marik away from them.

Unbidden, thoughts arose in Bakura's mind of his family, the life he once had in his village, thousands of years ago. Village life had been simple, if tough. Everyone cared about everyone. Everyone knew everyone. Not like these modern cities, surrounded by strangers, no one trusting anyone else.

Bakura closed his eyes, picturing himself back then, as a child, with his parents' arms around him. If they were busy, then one of the other members of the village would take him in and feed him, hold him if he was cold, sing to him if he was tired. A traditional lullaby was known by every member of the village, adult or child alike. Bakura found it rising to his lips. He hummed the ancient, familiar words, in a language no one even recognised anymore.

"I didn't know you could sing."

A slight rustle by the door made Bakura jump. He sat straight up on the sofa, turning his head fast enough to crick his neck, and saw Marik leaning in the doorway with a slight smile on his face.

Bakura grunted, sinking back into the cushions. "I can't."

"That sounded like singing to me."

Bakura grunted again.

Marik moved further into the flat, curling up next to Bakura. "What was that song?"

"An old one," Bakura answered wryly.

"Everything about you is old."

Bakura elbowed Marik's side with a mock-glare.

Marik merely grinned impishly back. He curled up closer to Bakura, a yawn stretching his lips wide, his limbs stretching before catching onto Bakura's arm. "What have you been doing all day?"

"Waiting for you to come back." Bakura leaned closer into Marik. "You took far too long."

"I was busy."

Bakura snorted. "With what?"

"I did a pregnancy test."

Bakura froze. His face blanched for a moment before he sent Marik a hard stare. "Marik."

"What?" Marik spoke through a muffled yawn, burying his head against Bakura's shoulder.

"Marik. You're male."

Marik rolled his eyes. "Well, duh."

Bakura's lips twitched. "Whilst you have several feminine qualities, I doubt the ability to carry a child is one of them."

Marik's jaw dropped. He stared at Bakura in open shock for a long moment before understanding flitted across his features and he shoved Bakura's side. "Asshole. The test wasn't for me. Ishizu's pregnant."

Bakura stared at him.

Marik grinned back. "I know. Amazing, right? We're going to be uncles!"

"I think you mean _you're_ going to be," Bakura griped, outwardly annoyed. Inwardly, however, the flash of a memory of childhood flitted behind his eyes. A lonely village out in the desert…

"I mean _we_ are," Marik corrected with another impish grin. "My family are yours, now. You're stuck with us."

"I don't remember agreeing to this," Bakura growled.

Marik leaned against him again, wrapping an arm around Bakura's shoulders. "Happened when you moved in with me."

Bakura huffed, but he leaned into Marik's touch. He closed his eyes, breathing in Marik's familiar scent, and wondered when this had begun to feel as much like home as that village once had. That village, full of the laughs of children.

"I said I'd babysit for her whenever she needs," Marik mumbled against Bakura's neck.

Bakura growled. "Why did you have to go and do that?"

"Because she's family," Marik yawned, "And so is the child."

" _Your_ family."

Marik shifted then. He sat upright, turning his face to meet Bakura's, and gently cupped Bakura's scarred cheek. His fingers were impossibly warm against Bakura's damaged skin.

"Our family," Marik murmured, his violet eyes bright. "Yours as much as mine. If you want it."

Bakura felt a thrum of unfamiliar emotion throttle through him. His body trembled with it. His grey eyes widened despite himself, and a flicker of feeling flitted across his features. He swallowed. "I … would like that."

Marik smiled, and it was like the dawn illuminating the desert. He leaned forward and kissed Bakura, and to Bakura it was like he was given new life, a new lease, a new start.

A new start, with a living family.

The village in his mind settled, and he pulled Marik close.

 **I hope that was ok! I like modern citron fluff ^_^ although it got a bit more angsty than I expected. Thanks for reading! – Jem**


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